


Peaches and Cream White Paper

by lukiez



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Tags Are Hard, WIP
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-15 22:47:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29321883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lukiez/pseuds/lukiez
Summary: Your father has given you the most darling life you could've ever wished for. However, a recent detour to Florence with not just Hannibal, but Bedelia has proved a bit of a struggle. Your father knows that playing hide and seek with a lady like her never goes as planned.
Relationships: Hannibal Lecter & Reader, Hannibal Lecter/Reader
Kudos: 10





	Peaches and Cream White Paper

Florence was great. Your father gave you even more attention than before, you'd picked up a stray, and made some friends at school. But you were exhausted. 'Ms. Du Maurier' was around twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. She'd poke and prod at you, analyzing you in ways you didn't quite understand, but could certainly notice. Albeit, she was as subtle as you think she could be. It wasn't just uncomfortable, but often disruptive. She'd walked in on your private moments with your father, much to his dismay, and each time - her prodding became a little bit more intense. She expressed openly that she 'cared' about you, sure, but you weren't sure why she was so concerned about your every move. Whether it was when you would be arriving home from school, or if you'd be sleeping with your father that night, it was too much.

_"Darling, would you pass me the pepper?" Your father asked, and you obliged politely. Picking it up from in front of you, your silk nightie traipsed right by your food, just barely picking up some of the sauce glazed atop your ham. Bedelia held her breath, but she knew it was only to be expected of such a young girl. Handing it over to him, you offered a loving gaze. "Thank you." He smiled, turning to the woman to your right. "Go ahead," he nodded, and she reluctantly picked up her fork and knife. Letting out a low hum of disapproval before she took a bite of the tender flesh, the source of her discomfort was unbeknownst to you, but it definitely hadn't been due to the nature of the dinner-table conversation. Perhaps she didn't like the food?_

She wasn't the most welcome guest. She was too uptight, and the way she spoke to your father left a sickly taste in the back of your throat. 


End file.
